


A Little of Both

by terrible_but_great474



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Comfort/Angst, F/M, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, dramione - Freeform, slaves and sleeplessness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-05-10 07:15:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5576160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terrible_but_great474/pseuds/terrible_but_great474
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sequel to my story Slaves and Sleeplessness. Draco and Hermione, age 16, use a charmed journal to communicate as the Wizarding War progresses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little of Both

Hermione arrived in the dungeon she had hated for so long with a fully stocked potion set and ample note taking supplies. Perhaps Professor Slughorn would look past their ill-preparedness, knowing what he did about Snape's teaching methods. Hadn't the former taught the latter? How strange to think about. She tried to imagine a teenage Snape, greasy hair falling in front of his face as he slaved over his potions notes, and hoped that Professor Slughorn was nothing like his student.

She took a seat at the front of the room a bit self-consciously. She always preferred the front...except in Potions. She took a deep breath and shook out her nerves, along with her brown hair, happily flat today instead of the bush she had grown used to. Thank the puberty gods, it was starting to lie tame more and more frequently without the need for enchantments or potions. Not that she hadn't charmed it just a smidge. Who could resist?

It would be strange not having a class with the boys, but they had a free period this morning. Seemed their OWLs weren't good enough, she thought to herself smugly, then pinked with guilt at her thoughts. A glance around the room showed her hardly anyone had had the marks to make it in. A few Ravenclaws, one Hufflepuff, and a gaggle of Slytherins were all sitting segregated from each other. Of course the Slytherins would have an easier time getting in, thanks to Snape. Though, he really is quite intelligent, she thought as she pointedly ignored the flash of blonde hair across the room. Probably didn't need the help. She bit her lip and stared down at the pewter table.

They hadn't spoken in two years. Not since the night He returned and Cedric was killed. Last year, it had been he who had ratted out the DA, and he who continually tormented the three of them, her and her friends. She had thought their separation to be heart-wrenching and romantic, and somewhere in her heart it still was, but after all this time, and all this distance, it was hard to remember the young boy eager to please who would write to her when he had nightmares. It was hard to look past the snide comments, the outright insults, the tired eyes, the hollow laughter. Did his friends notice how much wearier he seemed this year? She had flinched in surprise when she saw him on the train, dressed in a black Muggle suit (which really didn't help a sixteen year old boy blend in), and being shepherded along by his proud father and concerned mother. He hadn't looked terrible, but he was paler even than before, and his eyes refused to rest, instead darting from wall to wall, his shoulders tense. She knew the look, but not what it meant. All last year, she had seen it, and in the following days, sure enough, the Daily Prophet would report such-and-such about Death Eaters caught Muggle-baiting, Malfoy Manor being searched, Azakban breakouts. What could be troubling him this time? Her heart faltered when she saw him look that way. He was horribly rude, but he was still Draco. Still her fallen angel...just how far had he fallen as of late?

Just then, the dungeon door squealed open and, wouldn't you know it, Ron and Harry came stumbling in. Hermione rolled her eyes. She listened to them explain about Professor Slughorn's lower requirements and lent each of them one of her seven extra quills. Honestly, who didn't have quills on the first day of term? Looks like she wouldn't be getting any peace from her ragtag mates, but perhaps that was for her own good, she thought as her eyes dodged downward, away from the forlorn gray stare across the room.

Professor Slughorn bubbled around the classroom, making introductions, talking about past students. Hermione had of course read through the class materials and expected to have to brew a potion from the first chapter. She recited the information in her head while taking notes on the potions that Professor Slughorn had brought in to the class. The fresh scent of mown grass surprised her out of her internal recitation. Grass in a dungeon? She focused in on what Professor Slughorn was saying. Amortentia, the most powerful love potion in the world. Hermione's eyes widened. Surely they weren't going to be brewing something so devastating. Matters of the heart could do more damage than blades, she felt, staring determinedly ahead.

Over two years, she had grown used to ignoring Draco, but it never got easier. He was her first true friend, her first love, her first...anyways, it wasn't something you forgot about in a few short years. His sharp laugh would echo across the room and her vision would swim before her eyes, remembering his touch, that same laugh whispering in her ear, his grin going goofy and all for her. She loved watching him on the Quidditch field, and had to explain away her cheers for Slytherin by pretending to know nothing of the sport. Honestly, did they think there was anything Hermione Jean Granger knew nothing about? Hmph. Not likely.

She set to work on their task: a chapter one spell that she had read over several times, the Draught of Living Death. She knew what to do, but it was still tremendously difficult. She poured all her effort into it, not a single other thought crossing her mind. She didn't even care to correct Harry for slicing his Sopophorous Bean incorrectly. Her calculated movements and patient precision through the tedious science of potion-making had gotten her this far, and it would get her through today. Professor Slughorn had even offered a prize, something Hermione found to be an excellent teaching method for those students less self-motivated than herself. Not to brag, but, well okay, yes to brag. One bottle of Felix Felicis. She didn't know what she'd do with it, probably save it in her jewelry box for a very special day, maybe her wedding day when it came. Anyways, it would be nice just to have. Academics didn't earn you many trophies and she'd like to have something to bring home to show to her parents. Maybe she would even give it to them, as a Christmas gift. It would help them understand magic a bit more, and if anyone deserved it, they did. They were the best parents a Mudblood like her could ask for.

Harry disrupted her thoughts, insisting that she use his hair-brained method for preparing the ingredients, but she shooed him away. As the class went on, however, she noticed a definite difference between her draught and his, and not the usual difference. Hers was steaming softly, which it was not meant to be doing, while his was bubbling away just like in the diagram. Aggravated, she ran her fingers through her hair and found it to have frizzed up by the humidity. She grumbled under her breath and looked up hopelessly, allowing a moment of brief panic before correcting her unknown error. Unfortunately, in her respite, she spotted Draco, his gray eyes staring intently down. She could practically see the meticulous calculations going on in his head as he stirred his cauldron three times clockwise, waited seven seconds, then stirred twice more counterclockwise. When he stopped to let it come to a boil, he gazed longingly at the vial of Felix Felicis in the center of the room. His eyes held none of the warm desire she had seen in them before, replaced now by an almost cruel thirst for his reward. A subtle difference, but immensely important, and a vice many Slytherins were apt to fall to, though she couldn't blame them for the ambition which burned in her too.

When she turned her attention back to her work, it was with a groan of dismay. This situation was quickly falling out of her control. She hurried consulted her textbook and set back to stirring in sprigs of wheat, which should counter the steam she was seeing now...poof. A tiny explosion covered her face in smoke and she held her breath, trying not to cry. It had seemed so simple when she read the instructions this summer, why on Earth was Harry grinning at his perfectly clear potion? She felt her pulse quicken and her face redden but-luckily-before she could say anything, a small bell chimed. Class was over. She had lost. As soon as she could, she gathered her books and stalked up to Gryffindor Tower, knocking Draco's books off his desk as she passed by.


End file.
